Increasing the Odds
by pepdog1
Summary: When you're an orphan, being adopted is usually your main goal. Marx most definitely has this goal in mind. But achieving such goals is not always easy, and often seems to be entirely up to luck... But it isn't. It never is. It's all odds. And sometimes, to achieve a goal, you must increase the odds, no matter what the cost. (Gijinka) (Additional character tag: Grill)
1. Chapter 1

_Hey! Few little notes here;  
-New story, of course. Shall be focusing on this one as much as possible. I swear I'll do my best to keep my promise this time. I have the whole plot planned out from start to finish.  
-Gijinka story, obviously, did you not read the description  
-Rating is subject to change, especially later on, where is most definitely will become M rated, you have been warned  
-I've had a few, uh... influences for this story (cough_ _DoceoPerceptocough) but I swear I am not attempting to copy, only to put this idea into words. I actually had a dream featuring the main plot of this story. And we all know how well my dream stories go... -looks at other fanfiction I've left lying in the dust-  
Aaaanyway, I hope you enjoy this. No more author's notes after this, excluding possible updates._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The Dame Kodomo Orphanage was an orphanage in some unknown part of the northern hemisphere, which used to, in fact, be a castle of some sort. The place had been well renovated from its old, broken state, and was definitely more grand and luxurious than any other orphanage in the country.

It had many rooms, including a clock tower, a large dining area, and many, many bedrooms, as well as large, mazelike hallways connecting them all. The clock tower was, unfortunately, too dangerous to fix, and was therefore off limits.

The orphanage was the temporary home for over a hundred orphans from the ages of two up to seventeen.

All of these of these children were actually rather special, but one was particularly so. And you shall find out why...

* * *

"Um, hey, Marx...!"

Marx looked up from his book at the girl who had called his name, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

The boy was about twelve years of age, with fluffy lilac hair and vibrant purple eyes... And a rather of fashion sense. However, he somehow managed to make a red and blue jester hat go with well a violet shawl, and managed to look quite good in black tights and leather boots.

He was currently curled up in a large, red armchair, practically sinking into its soft cushions. He had been rather absorbed in his novel, and needless to say, having his concentration broken was not appreciated.

"... Mel, is it?" This wouldn't been the first time this girl had come into his room unannounced. The first time had been due to trying to hide from her friends while playing a game.

Mel nodded, pushing her glasses up her nose a bit. She looked a little nervous. "Um... If it's alright, Mister Marx, a friend of mine told me that you have a collection of books, and I was wondering-"

"If you could borrow one?" Marx finished for her, closing his book. His voice was laced with slight annoyance, and he licked his teeth as he waited for a response. If one looked closely, they might've seen fangs where the canines should have been.

Mel hesitated a bit. Firstly, she had not been expecting to be interrupted. It wasn't a thing people usually did to eight year olds. Secondly, she knew Marx's eyes were focused directly on her, and it stunned her as to how he could look so threatening without even lifting a finger or saying anything remotely threatening. Thirdly... She had noticed the fangs.

She self-consciously grabbed the end of her curly, brown hair, stroking it nervously, looking down at her feet. "U-um... Y-yes, please! -I-if that's alright with you, of course...!"

Marx paused, silent. His eyes were slightly unfocused, as if watching space. He seemed to be thinking... or was just zoned out.

... And then he snapped out of it. "I think I know just the book for you." He got up, placing his book on the side of his armchair. He gently went up to Mel and took her hand, leading her to the bookshelf.

The bookshelf had a large assortment of books. He had obtained each one from the owner of the orphanage; Lady Drawcia. She had noticed his love for books from a young age, and almost every single month she had a new one for him. Made up for the lack of birthday presents, since he didn't really have a birthday. Or at least, it wasn't celebrated.

Mel looked up at the books in awe. "Woah... You have so many!"

Marx couldn't help but smile a bit, putting his hand together, fingers entwined. "Indeed, I do. I've been collecting them since I was nine."

He had so many books there... Comedy, romance, drama, science fiction and mystery novels; graphic novels, comic strips, and even a few informative books.

Mel studied them, brown eyes sparkling. She reached for an interesting looking one, but Marx verbally scolded her.

"No, not that one. Trust me. I think you'll really enjoy this one, instead." He got on his tip-toes, grabbing a novel from the top shelf, before handing it to the younger child.

Mel cautiously took the book from Marx's gloved hands, looking at its cover. "...'Harry Potter'...?" She read aloud, adjusting her glasses.

"A classic." Marx smiled, sitting back down. He had a sort of twinkle in his eyes... "It was the first book Drawcia gave to me. Be careful with it, okay?"

Mel hesitated, but then soon nodded, holding the book close to her chest. "Alright! _Terima kasih_ , Mister Marx _!_ " She bowed lightly, before quickly making her way out of the room.

Marx sighed once the other had left. All the other children were playing outside, and here he was, sitting inside and letting little kids borrow his books...

He paused a bit, looking around the room. He didn't really feel like reading anymore, and he was feeling a little stiff, so surely a little walk around the castle would do him good. And since most people were outside and the ones who were inside were usually only the ones who gossiped, he could easily avoid having to socialise.

He had decided. He stepped out of the room, walking down the corridor, not knowing exactly where he was going, but knowing where he was nonetheless. He knew what would happen depending on what he did.

But no matter what, he could not predict being roughly shoved by a large person through an open bathroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Marx hit the cold, tiled floor of the boys bathroom with a sharp cry. The wind had been knocked out of him, and for a moment, he struggled to breathe. After a few moments, he got up on his hands and knees, cringing as a shot of pain was sent up the arm that he had landed on.

He heard laughter. Two familiar voices. He kept his head down, not bothering to get up. He knew he'd just be pushed down again anyway.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Marx... Did I hurt you...?" One of the people asked him, a mocking tone in his voice. He had a noticeable Scottish accent, and it was obvious he was only a young teen. Fourteen years old, to be exact.

"...Bear." Marx muttered indignantly, licking his fangs. "I didn't see you there."

"Neither did I." The person, apparently named 'Bear', grinned, not a hint of remorse in his voice of expression. He was obviously lying. "Get up, now, lad. Don't keep me waiting."

Marx did as he was told, slowly standing up, not looking at Bear, instead letting his lilac hair obstruct his hair. He didn't need to look at the other. He knew exactly what the other looked like. Bulky, with short, carrot orange hair. Surprisingly handsome, though with a big nose; although, Marx didn't really think about that much.

"Look up at me."

Marx refused. His hands were balled into fists. He was thinking. How was he going to get out of this situation...?

" _Look at me."_ Bear ordered, grabbing Marx's head with one of his big hands and yanking it back so the boy would look up at him.

Marx winced in pain, his violet eyes meeting the other's emerald ones. Bear was much taller than him; at least six inches taller. Not to mention, he could probably snap Marx's tiny little frame quite easily with those large arms. Marx had quite a few reasons to be afraid, surely.

But he felt nothing but annoyance. Bear had no reason to harm him, no reason to antagonise him. He just did it because he wanted to.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice low and slightly impatient. The question was actually rather redundant. He knew what Bear wanted. Bear wanted to hurt him, just for fun. "If you're planning to shove my head down the toilet, then I must say, I'm not impressed. I expected you to have more class than to do something so cliché."

"Oh no, that's not my plan at all...!" Bear had a sly grin on his face, and he looked rather smug. It was almost like he was proud that he had thought of something better and not so predictable. "Grab him, Jasper."

Marx's mind went into overdrive. He was trying to figure out what Bear could be planning, and at the same time, he was trying to flee. However, Jasper -Bear's shorter, leaner friend with curly, dark-brown hair- was too quick for him. Within moments, Marx was grabbed under the arms, and held in a way that he couldn't struggle his way out, yet could easily be pulled around at will, like a puppet or a doll.

"Aha, trying to escape, are we?" Bear shot the other a cocky grin. "No chance."

"...W-what are you going to do to me...?" Marx asked, looking up at the other with an expression that appeared to be fear.

The stutter was an act; he had picked up that Bear was more rough to him when he was being brave, so he had learnt to feign fear in order to be less harshly handled.

"We're gonna push you out the window." Bear answered simply, going and opening said window. It was pretty high up -Marx could just barely see the ground if he stood on his toes- but it was big enough to push a person through quite easily.

Marx couldn't help but to frown at the thought, however. "B-but... We're on the first floor." Sure, it might give him a few bruises and possibly a sprained muscle or broken bone if he landed wrong, but it just wasn't Bear's style. Usually, he liked to make the pain last as long as possible, and make his victims helpless until somebody saw them in their embarrassing state.

Bear chuckled a bit, shoulders shaking as he laughed. "Ohoho... Oh no, you don't understand. We're not just gonna chuck you onto the ground. We're gonna drop you into a bramble bush."

And it was that sentence that got Marx's heart racing a bit. A bramble bush. He should have guessed that Bear would do something like that...

"O-oh, eheheh..." He could feel his chest tightening, and now his stutter wasn't being faked anymore. "That sounds a bit, u-uh..." He struggled to find a suitable word. Cruel? That wasn't it... The word he was looking for was somewhere along the lines of "unnecessary" and "overdoing it", but his usually quick brain was failing him.

Bear seemed to take pride in this. "Look at ya. I bet if you weren't already as pale as a sheet, you'd be going pale quicker than I can snap my fingers. Throw him in, Jasp."

Jasper started dragging Marx towards the window. The younger boy struggled, trying to push himself back, but his scuffed, leather boots on the slippery floor didn't do him any favours.

As soon as he was close enough, Bear helped along, lifting Marx's legs up off the ground with easy. He kicked and squirmed to get out of Bear's grip, but to no avail. In no time at all, they had thrown him into the thorny plant.

Within a few seconds, Marx found himself tangled in the thorny vines. The spikes dug into him, scratched his face, and poked him through his clothes into the most uncomfortable places. He had to bite his lip and close his eyes tightly to stop himself from crying out, but that didn't really work, as his fangs dug into his lip with ease, causing blood to drip down his chin.

Just great.

He could hear Bear's rambunctious laughter and Jasper's failed attempts at hiding his snorting. The two congratulated each other, and Marx heard them slapping each other on the back. He just sighed.

Why did the two go out of their way to terrorise him? At first, he had been terrified, but after two years of the same thing over and over, he had gotten absolutely sick of it. The worst thing was that Bear wasn't one for verbalising things, or so it seemed, and so Marx had never actually figured out _why_ they did what they did. What had he done to deserve this sort of treatment...?

He closed his eyes calmly now, going limp into the plant. He had managed to get into a position that didn't hurt all too much. His clothes were probably completely wrecked, and his shirt, shawl and bowtie were most definitely drenched in the blood from his lip... But he found himself not caring all too much.

He heard footsteps, but ignored them. They probably wouldn't find him. He didn't need help, He could get out of trouble himself. It would take a lot of energy and create a lot of pain, but he didn't really care. He'd easily be able to do it once he gained some energy back...

"What in tarnation- A-are you dead...?!"

Marx's eyes shot open, looking up at the boy that had just exclaimed aloud. The boy was wearing a red and white cap, a white tee-shirt and red shorts. He had freckles, short blonde hair, and a rather strong American accent. Or at least, somewhat American, in Marx's point of view.

"-Oh, thank my stars, you're alive." The boy sighed in relief. He seemed to be even older than Bear; probably fifteen years old. He was just as tall as Bear, too. "What on earth happened here...?"

Marx hesitated, seeming to be contemplating his answer. "...Nothing."

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't nothing." The taller boy frowned. "You're lyin' in a _bramble patch,_ for goodness sakes! That cannot be comfortable."

"No, I'm perfectly fine...!" Marx lied, smiling a bit, though he didn't show his fangs to this person. "It's- o-ow..." He winced, smile becoming pained. "I-it's actually pretty comfortable, o-once you get used to it...!"

The taller boy stared at the other with some kind of unreadable look. He almost looked like he was judging the other. "You're bleedin' there, y'know."

"I bit my lip." That wasn't a lie, at least.

The taller boy just sighed. "I'm going to get Lady Drawcia. Stay there, okay?"

Marx gritted his teeth a bit, smiling widely, though he had no mirth in his eyes. "Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"That's the spirit!" And the boy ran off, leaving Marx all alone again.

As soon as the other boy was gone, Marx just sighed, going back to his closed-eyed, limp state.

In the distance, he could hear laughter again. Not the mean-spirited laughter he recognised, but the laughter of children having fun, playing happily outside.

Being trapped like this gave Marx a chance to think. He had been here in this orphanage since he was nine, yet... He hadn't managed to gain a single friend.

When he was younger, he longed for a companion... But the others shunned him and shooed him away. Now, three years later, he didn't care much for friends. When he got adopted, they'd lose connections with each other, anyway. So it didn't matter to him.

Well... Not much, at least. He still felt lonely. He still felt unwanted. He still felt like he really wanted somebody to comfort him every time he got hurt, somebody to love him unconditionally; a parent... But he didn't have any of that.

... He felt his chest tighten a little. It was getting harder to breathe. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, but him blinked them back, forcing them to stay where they belonged. He had no reason to cry. Sure, he was injured, but it didn't hurt all too much. He was fine.

And then he heard footsteps again. He didn't look over. He could hear talking, too.

"Here he is, Ma'am! I told ya. Caught in the brambles."

"Thank you, Charlie..." There was the familiar, warm voice that belonged to Lady Drawcia. It was a comforting and familiar sound for Marx, but that comfort all disappeared and was replaced with a feeling of dread as he heard a third voice.

"Wow, how did he get in there?" Female. Irish. Rather young, younger than Marx, at least. He didn't recognise it. But what was she doing here with Lady Drawcia...?

"Don't worry, Marx. I'll get you out...!" Drawcia called out to him, as if he needed a warning about what she was about to do.

"Hehehe... I know you will..." He chuckled mirthlessly, sighing a bit. It wouldn't be the first time... Or the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

As Marx suspected, he felt something lifting him out of the bramble patch soon after Drawcia's words of warning. It felt weightless though, and lifted his entire being. It was magic. Quite literally. It was common in this world for people to have magic, and he knew for certain that Drawcia was a witch, meaning she was specifically taught how to control her magic in a special school.

Within a few short moments, he had his feet planted firmly on the ground, and Drawcia was in front of him, trying to soak up the blood with a small white cloth.

Lady Drawcia was a tall woman with lovely dark skin that contrasted her brilliant, gold eyes. She had very long, blue hair, and was covered almost completely from head to toe, wearing a large, purple coat and a big, floppy hat, as well as a cloth covering her mouth. She was rather beautiful, even in Marx's eyes.

"However did you manage to get into the brambles like that, child?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

"I... fell out the window." Well, it wasn't a lie, even if he was leaving out the important parts...

"...You fell out the bathroom window." Drawcia echoed, raising an eyebrow. She seemed unconvinced.

Marx paused, a little nervous. "Yes, I just said that."

"...The bathroom window, which is higher up than you are tall, which you would need to physically climb up in order to fall out of?"

Marx felt his face flushing a bit. He hadn't really thought that one out, had he? "Y-yes, that one. I have my reasons, okay...?"

Drawcia didn't respond for a moment, but then simply sighed. "Be more careful next time, alright, dear...?"

Marx quickly nodded. "I will, I promise."

Drawcia smiled a little. Though Marx couldn't see her mouth, he could see her contentment in her eyes. "Good. Now, actually, I think this is the perfect time to introduce you to somebody. Marx, this is Grill."

The girl that had arrived with Drawcia stepped forward. She had tanned skin, short hair that was two different shades of green -lime and pear, Marx reckoned- bright, chartreuse eyes and a bright smile on her face. Her clothes contrasted her hair; a purple and yellow hat with a long "tail" and a little golden cube at the end, and a purple vest over a simple white dress. Oh, and cherry red boots. They were really shiny.

But, as pretty as she was, Marx couldn't help but feel his heart drop. He... didn't exactly like talking to new people. Talking to people in general was a bit difficult. But new people... that was even worse.

He slowly looked down, putting his hands together, left over right. He did that a lot, but he never noticed.

Grill didn't seem to notice either. "Hey there!"

"... H-hi."

Drawcia spoke up again. "Marx, I have a very important job for you, okay? I need you to stay with Grill; show her around the place, and then escort her to her room. She'll tell you where it is. Can you do that for me, dear?"

... Marx just shrugged a bit, tapping one of his boots against the other. He knew he could do it, he just... really didn't want to.

Drawcia gave him a patient smile. "You'll be fine, Marx. I know you can do this."

Marx slowly nodded. It wasn't like he had any choice in the matter, did he?

Drawcia smiled more. "Good. Now, I'll be off now. Have fun, you two!"

Grill grinned, nodding. "We will, Lady Drawcia!"

And with a small nod of her own, Drawcia gracefully turned and left the pair alone.

As soon as the adult was gone, Grill turned to Marx, beaming cheerfully. Marx sighed a little. "Shall we go to the dining room first, maybe...?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically. And so, Marx began to walk her to the dining room.

...Grill decided to try and chat to him along the way.

"So, how old are you, Mister Marx?" She asked

Marx paused. Was she really talking to him about this? "...Twelve."

"Oh, you're a year older than me, then!" She chirped happily. "And I see you've dyed your hair, too!"

"Pardon?" Marx raised an eyebrow, staring at the younger girl.

"My hair used to be red, but I dyed it green! You look like you used to be a brunette, to me. I don't know why, you just do!"

"W-what?" Marx was a little confused. "N-no, this is my natural hair colour..."

"You naturally have lilac hair?" Grill tilted her head a bit.

He slowly nodded. Was that a bad thing...?

"Oh my... Do you know what this means?" The girl asked excitedly.

"...It means that I have a low amount of eumelanin?"

Grill's smile faltered. "Um... No? I don't even know what that means. But anyway, lilac hair means..." She gave a pause for dramatic effect. "You have more magical potential~!"

Marx paused at that, seemingly confused. "Magical potential...?"

Grill grinned, seemingly confident about this idea. "Yeah! You could be a mage, or a wizard, just like Drawcia and I are witches!"

Marx frowned slightly. He was fine with people having magic, but he didn't think he'd be able to handle it. It didn't make any sense to him. It could do things that science couldn't explain, and he didn't like that thought...

But he continued the conversation, making as if his frown was of disbelief rather than what bordered abhorrence. "You're a witch?"

The girl seemed more than happy to talk about this, almost as if she didn't notice Marx's frown. "Yep! I haven't been training for long, but I can already levitate things! Maybe I could teach you; it's real simple!"

"Erm, no, thanks..." Marx looked away, deciding to switch the subject now. "Why don't I just help you find your room instead...?"

"Oh, okay!" And yet again, Grill's cheerful demeanour was seemingly not deterred. "It's room 2634."

Marx thought a little, and then had to hold back a groan as he realised where the girls' room was. It was so close to his own... Damn it.

It wasn't that he hated her... He was just a bit annoyed with her. She was always so cheerful and loud... Really, it made him feel absolutely exhausted.

"Alright... Follow me." And he led her to her room.

They soon arrived, and Grill thanked Marx for the help, giving him a small hug in return. He has frozen up at the touch, but luckily it didn't last long. Before he knew it, the girl was inside her room, behind a closed door.

...He sighed, beginning to wander off back to his room. Hopefully, by tomorrow, Grill would have forgotten all about him and gotten some new, better friends... But he could worry about that later. For now, he needed a nap...

oOoOo

 _Thanks so much to "Just a Guest"; without them and their review, this chapter wouldn't be up as soon as it is, or maybe at all. You got my motivation going, friend! Thank you!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It was about an hour after Marx had fallen asleep that he heard a knock on the door. He promptly proceeded to ignore it. Usually, if people really wanted him, they'd knock again. Or just come in uninvited. He was feeling much too groggy to bother to open the door anyway.

...But then, after a few faint voices spoke to each other -obviously wondering what to do- they knocked again. With a small groan, Marx forced himself to get up out of bed and saunter over to the door. When he opened it, three small children were there; two boys and a girl. The boys looked almost identical, and... they all had green hair. They must've been related to Grill, or something. Great...

"What is it...?" He looked at them with narrowed eyes, whilst trying to rub the tiredness away with a hand. He probably still had bedhead, or hat-hair, since his jester hat was absent. In fact, it was resting on the head of the bed.

"Um, Lady Drawcia wants to see you, Mister Marx!" The girl chirped.

Marx paused, thinking for a moment as to why this was the case. She probably just wanted to know how things went with Grill, right? So... there shouldn't be any problem. He wouldn't be in trouble for going up there.

"...Alright, thank you." He nodded curtly. "I'll be up there in a second..."

The three seemed happy with that response, and ran off down the hall like the little children they were.

Marx sighed a little, going and grabbing his hat. His eyes still felt so heavy... That nap hadn't done anything for him.

The way to Lady Drawcia's office was up a huge staircase. Marx wasn't one for physical exercise. He was pretty thin, though you couldn't see it under his fluffy clothes. And he had almost no stamina. Stairs were not a friend of his...

But soon, he was at the top, and not long after that, he made it to Drawcia's door. There was a large chair outside, and he flopped into it, closing his eyes.

...Maybe he could fall asleep again. If Drawcia needed him, she could wake him up. Though it would be hard to sleep with that talking in the background. It sounded like Drawcia was talking to somebody...

... Marx slowly opened his eyes, putting his head up against the wall to see if he could hear the conversation that Drawcia was having. It wasn't nice to eavesdrop, but he couldn't contain his curiosity.

Drawcia's warm voice could be heard first. "So, their names are Landon and Lori Watt. They live not too far away, and they'll be coming to pick you up tomorrow, alright?"

"Are they nice?" This voice was the voice of a young girl, probably only about 6 years old.

Drawcia chuckled. "Hehehe... They are very nice, don't worry."

Marx sighed, sitting back down on his chair. Somebody else was getting adopted, huh? He had been in this place for years, and nobody had even considered adopting him yet...

Though he supposed he had nobody but himself to blame. There must've been something he was doing wrong to make them like this...

...No. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He had been trying as best as he could, and he was going to get adopted, one way or another.

"Marx?"

The boy looked over as Lady Drawcia called him name, getting snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could say anything, the woman invited him into her room, walking inside...

And Marx followed.

Inside the room, it was very colourful, and looked nothing like the rest of the castle. Paintings lined every wall, and none of the furniture matched. The place was filled with bookshelves filled with brightly coloured knick-knacks. Somehow, however, it created a sort of chaotic harmony, and nothing looked out of place.

Marx sat down in the familiar, purple armchair that he always sat in whenever he came to Drawcia's office. He liked that chair. It had a nice colour.

What he didn't like, however, was the look Drawcia gave him as she sat down.

"Marx..."

He suddenly felt the room go a little colder. She was looking at him with great concern; with eyes that wouldn't move away. She had said nothing but his name this entire time, and the last time she said it, it sent a chill up his spine. Surely, she just wanted to talk about Grill, right?

... Right?

"...May I ask you a question, Marx?" Drawcia asked carefully. That was the third time she had said his name... And by the way she was saying it, Marx could tell that she wasn't worried about Grill.

Marx looked down a bit, avoiding eye-contact with the adult. He put both hands in his lap, bouncing his legs slightly. He couldn't help it. Some part of his just didn't want to let him sit still. And at the same time, he wanted to curl up to get away from the sudden coldness. "You may, yes."

Drawcia continued, "And you'll answer me completely honestly?"

The boy paused a bit, taking a small breath in. "I... I don't see why not."

Drawcia frowned at that, her voice turning a littler sterner. "I need you to answer me honestly, Marx."

He felt a lump in his throat at that. His lips slipped open slightly, trying to help him breathe better. His chest felt tight. "I-I will."

Why did he feel so nervous? He _knew_ Lady Drawcia. She wouldn't hurt him like Bear always did, so why was he afraid of _her_ when he was rarely ever so afraid of Bear? It didn't make sense to him... And in a way, that made his heart beat faster.

Maybe he was afraid of letting her down. Of disappointing her. Of having to lie to her. Whatever it was, all he knew was he hated his feeling.

Drawcia had seemed to accept his answer, which was a good thing, for a while, at least. It was when she finally asked her question that nearly sent Marx into panic.

"Are you getting bullied here, Marx?"

Those simple words took a toll on him. He licked his lips, which had suddenly become dry, and his hands twitched a bit. He couldn't answer that question... At least, not directly. Not truthfully. "Why do you ask?"

Drawcia gave a small sigh, which made Marx's heart sink a little. Was she annoyed?

"Marx." Her voice was exasperated, now. "You've had many unexplainable accidents this year, you know. Falling out the window earlier today, for example. Managing to hang yourself from a tree by your shawl last month; remember that? Locking yourself in the broom closet? Marx, these aren't just things people do on accident; at least, not this frequently. I'm really worried about you, Marx. I need to know if people are hurting you. That way, I can help you."

Marx was silent, taking all that in. She had figured out that he was getting bullied, but she hadn't figured out who was doing the bullying. He could still turn this around. He didn't like lying to her, but he didn't want her worrying, either...

"...A-alright... There _is_ something I need to tell you about this..."

Drawcia leaned forwards in her chair a bit; only a little bit, but Marx could still tell. He paused, bouncing his leg on the spot, slowly swinging side to side. He still didn't make eye-contact with her. All part of the plan.

"...P-promise you won't be mad at me...?" He asked, in a voice so quiet it wouldn't have been heard if the room hadn't already been silent.

"I promise, Marx." The witch nodded. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it isn't your fault."

Marx gritted his teeth a bit, making sure the witch could see his visible discomfort. "R-right..." He took a deep breath, even though he didn't need to. His heart was racing a bit, but that didn't matter. It always did that when he had a plan.

"I did all those things on purpose." He spat out, closing his eyes tightly. He knew that if he seemed guilty, it'd be more believable.

There was a moment of silence, before Drawcia spoke. "...Whatever do you mean...?"

"I mean..." Marx took another deep breath, looking to the side. "I did all those things to get your attention. Y-you're always so busy... But I love it when you pay attention to me. And I... I knew you'd come if I got hurt or trapped, s-so... I purposely did those things so that you'd come and look after me..." He took another deep breath, trembling a bit now. It sort of looked like he was about to tear up. "I-I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to get you worried, I-I was just... s-so lonely..."

There was another pause. Marx mentally scolded himself for stuttering so much; he had probably overdone it, hadn't he?

Drawcia slowly stood up. Marx could hear her gentle footsteps falling on the floor as she went to stand next to him. He slowly looked up at her, expecting to see her angry... But her eyes were full of something else; something that most definitely wasn't anger. And she had her arms outstretched.

Marx hesitated, but then carefully leaned into the adult, soon being hugged close, pulled into the warmth of her heavy, fluffy coat.

"Oh, Marx..." She murmured. "You didn't have to do that..."

"I-I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, Marx. There's no need to be sorry." Her voice was soft, and gentle; a song in his ear. "But please, don't do this anymore. It really does worry me."

"Don't worry, it won't happen again, Lady Drawcia."

Though he couldn't see it, she smiled slightly. "Next time you feel this way, come to my office. I'll find some way to spend time with you. Or, perhaps you could spend time with Grill, if you can't find me. Does that sound good?"

"It does. Thank you, Lady Drawcia..."

The adult gently let him go. "Alright; hurry along, now. Dinner is in an hour, I believe."

Marx stood up, with a small smile on his face. He made sure not to show his fangs, though. Didn't want to be suspicious, or threatening. Showing teeth was a threat, was it not? "Yes, thank you. See you later, Lady Drawcia."

She giggled a bit; a warm, cheerful sound. "See you later, Marxy."

Marx's smile widened at that, and he exited the room with that same smile plastered on his face. It was only once the large doors had closed that that smile slowly slid off. He had just realised what he had done.

He had made a promise he couldn't keep. How on earth would he stop Bear from terrorising him...?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Marx's footsteps could be heard echoing through the empty hallways. It was sort of odd how there was nobody there. In the vast halls of the castle, it almost felt like time had slowed to a stop.

They had a perfectly good reason not to be there, however. There was nothing interesting in that area, other than the broken clock tower, but nobody was foolish enough -or brave enough- to try and climb to its summit.

Other than Marx, that is.

It wasn't that he was foolish; far from it, in fact. He knew all the risks of what he was doing when climbing that tower.

He stood at the entrance of the tower, looking around. There was nobody else in sight, and not a single sound to be heard. That was good. He knew what he was doing was dangerous; he didn't want anybody else getting hurt because they followed him up.

Certain that he was alone, he looked back over at the staircase in front of him. It was made of stone which had cracked in many places, and one of the banisters had been torn from the wall. The only part of that banister was a bit of metal sticking out of the wall, which was connected to the other banister by a yellow tape with the words "WARNING: DANGER" on them in bold, black letters.

He proceeded to ignore the tape, crawling under it. It wasn't really a barrier in his eyes, more like a suggestion. A suggestion that it was too dangerous to go up there. But he knew better. He knew where to stand and where not to stand. He'd be fine.

After climbing up the stairs and arriving at the top, Marx sat on a large chunk of rock that had broken off the wall, taking in the sights around him.

There were a few windows, but had no glass in them, other than a few sharp shards that were glued to the stone windowsill. These shards reflected the sunlight onto the floor, creating small rainbows. There was a cool breeze through the room, which Marx was easily protected from by his shawl. All in all, it was a rather beautiful place, despite the state of disrepair it was in.

Marx loved coming up here. It was completely secluded, and nobody else ever came up there, because they were too afraid. He could just sit there and think in silence, all alone, thinking about his problems.

Honestly, he had no clue how he was going to get Bear off his back. He was considering talking to him, but then again, he couldn't exactly tell if Bear would be smart enough to listen to him and take him seriously.

If only he had some way to make him pay attention... Some way of making him see how much trouble they both would be in if things didn't slow down, or cease entirely.

He was small and weak, however. It was highly unlikely that he'd be able to have an influence against him at all. He wished so badly that he could have a way to... to _intimidate_ the other... But how?

"Hey, mister?"

Marx flinched with a small yelp as his thoughts were cut off, looking towards the voice that had just spoken to him. He recognised that voice. It was the one he had heard talking to Lady Drawcia.

She was a very small child, and looked almost like a porcelain doll; blonde, curly hair, big blue eyes and a pink dress. She looked up at him with pure innocence in her eyes.

"What're you doing up here, mister? I thought we weren't allowed up here." She mused innocently, head tilting to the side a bit.

Marx's voice caught in his throat for a second. It was dangerous for this girl to be here. He had to think of a way to get her out, and fast. He just hoped she'd be obedient. He wasn't good with people, let alone young ones...

"I... was just checking if there was anybody else up here." He lied, a small smile nervously crossing his lips. "But there wasn't, so we can leave now-"

"-Ooh, it's so pretty!" The little girl rushed to one of the windows, leaning out to get a better look. Marx's heart practically jumped to his throat, smile slipping off.

"H-hey, little girl!" He called out, stepping towards her.

"My name's Clarissa!" She replied, proceeding to attempt to climb up onto the windowsill.

Marx quickly got to her, grabbing her around her waist. "Y-yeah, listen, we have to go now!" His voice was high with panic. He wasn't in the mood to have a little girl get him in trouble. The people playing outside would notice her leaning through the window... And if they noticed and told Drawcia, he'd be held responsible.

Not to mention, she could easily fall out.

Clarissa thrashed a bit in his arms, however, squealing a little. "Let go!" She shouted. "I-I don't know you! Let go!"

Marx clenched his teeth together, struggling to keep hold of her. She was so close to falling... Didn't she realize how annoying she was being? Did she really have to be this stubborn?! It was a simple request!

Marx tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace, and along with the sing-song-y tone the next sentence came out with, it was clear he was struggling not to lose his temper. "I will, but you have to promise to come down with me...!"

"Let go!" She squealed again, kicking him in the gut as hard as she could.

Marx suddenly let go, stumbling backwards, arms wrapping themselves around his stomach. That did _not_ feel good...

But what was worse was seeing the girl stumble forwards at the same time, and disappear out of view.

Time seemed to slow for Marx. He struggled to get his breath back, not yet processing what had happened. He had a large lump of discomfort in his gut from the kick... not that he wasn't used to it.

What made the gut-wrenching pain much, much worse, however, were the screams he heard from outside. It hit him like a bag of sand, and he had to use a wall to keep him from falling as he realized what had happened.

 _He had killed a child._

Those words rang through his head like a broken record. He had killed a child. A child about half his age. A child who was so close to finally having a family of her own... He had killed a child.

He was just trying to help her, he reasoned. But yet again, he could only imagine being killed himself right before the moment he had been waiting for for so long...

His breath caught. His chest felt heavy. His legs threatened to collapse underneath him and send him tumbling out a window as well.

... But they didn't collapse. Instead, he was sent flying.

Flying down the staircase if the tower. Fleeing down the corridor at a pace he had never be able to even come close to before. He kept going, not stopping until he had slammed the door of his room shut and had flopped down onto his bed, air only reaching his lungs in short bursts.

It was hard to wrap his head around. But once he did, tears started gathering in his eyes.

He had killed a child.

His gaze was glued to the floor, not that he could see anything with his clouded vision. His teeth were clenched together so tightly, he felt like they would shatter like glass. Slowly, he brought his legs up to his body, curling up in a tight ball, tears dripping down his cheek. The only sound in his room was the sound of his breathing, hitching and whimpering, irregular and louder than usual, covering the entire room.

It had to be a dream. It was all just a dream. A nightmare. He closed his eyes tightly. It wasn't real. He wasn't responsible for a death. He couldn't be. It was all just a dream...

... He laid there, curled up for what felt like hours, until he had a knock on his door. Good. Somebody was there to wake him from his dream, to tell them that everything was okay, even if they didn't realize something was wrong in the first place.

"Marx?" It was Grill. Her voice was soft, yet with a concerned undertone. "Are you in there?"

Marx forced himself to speak as clearly as possible. "Yeah." That would have to be a sufficient answer for now.

"Did you hear?" Grill asked. Her voice was low now. Sad. "There was an accident. Somebody died."

... It wasn't a dream after all. He was officially a murderer.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Drawcia said she wants to meet us all in the dining hall." Grill told Marx, her ear gently pressed up against his door. "Do you want me to wait for you, or will you be alright on your own?"

Marx felt slightly conflicted about the offer the other was giving him. On one hand, somebody to walk with to look after him in case he burst into tears again _would_ be nice, but on the other hand, he barely knew this girl! Why would she care about him? It seemed more likely that she was only doing this because Lady Drawcia made her.

And on top of that, he found her annoying. She was loud-mouthed and _way_ too optimistic, considering where she was right now. He had a feeling she'd find a way to make things worse...

"I'll be fine." He said to her, a little rougher than he intended to. "You can go now."

There was a pause, and then Grill responded, her voice sounding somewhat hurt... "O-okay... I'll see you there, then."

Marx listened as her footsteps slowly faded away, carefully taking in a deep breath. He could do this. He could go to this... meeting... And manage his way through it without crying again. It would be like nothing ever happened. Because nothing did happen. He never went up to that clock tower, and he never saw a little kid falling to her death from more than three stories above the ground-

He paused, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. He had to get himself composed and leave now, before the room checker came and forced him to go out.

He stood up, going to the mirror that hung from the wall. His reflection showed him the image of a boy with squinty, shiny eyes that were stained red from his tears, and a splash of red across his face that was very noticeable against his almost white skin. Marx grimaced. He looked terrible. He was a mess...

See, this was why he made a point of never crying. No point making himself look terrible for no reason.

No point showing others his weaknesses so clearly. He was strong. He had survived this far. Having people know about a weakness of his that they could exploit would simply make his life harder.

So, he tried to fix himself up, wiping his tears away one final time and taking a few deep breaths. He didn't have any makeup to hide the red on his face, but he was sure he could pass that off as a blush, or something.

Mentally preparing himself, he went to the door and opened it. It was silent in the hall. Nobody was there.

Feeling an odd chill up his spine, he forced himself to quickly walk towards the dining hall. He held his hands together, left over the right, as usual. His palms were warm, but he noticed that his fingers were practically frozen. That was probably due to the fact that his gloves were fingerless, right? That, and the fact he had little to no circulation in his hands due to his aversion to physical exercise.

It couldn't possibly be because he was afraid.

When he made it to the dining hall, he found the place completely packed with children, all talking loudly about the incident. Luckily, their voices melted together in such a way that Marx didn't have to listen to them. He was doing his best to forget, as it was.

Marx soon realised that he had a problem; he couldn't see anything past the people in front of him. He was too short. He stood on his toes, but soon found that that didn't make any difference. He'd be stuck just listening to Drawcia's voice, if it was even able to carry all the way through the crowd to his ears at the very back...

He soon felt a tapping on his shoulder. He couldn't help but recoil slightly, eyes snapping to look over at the person who had made contact with him.

It was Charlie; the person who had found him in the brambles earlier that day. He was standing there, hands in his pockets, smiling down at him.

"Hey there, little fella. You can't see, can you?"

Marx looked around. Surely he was talking to somebody else, right?

-Oh, wait, Charlie had tapped _his_ shoulder. Of course he was talking to him. Stupid, stupid...

"...No, I can't. But I'll be fine." He responded simply, composing himself as if he had known all along that this person was talking to him.

Charlie didn't seem convinced, however. "What's your name, little fella?"

"...Marx...?" He answered hesitantly. Where exactly was this conversation going...?

"Well then, Marx, would you like to sit on my back?"

Marx was confused, to say the least. "What?" He wanted him to sit on his back? Why?

"You know, you so can have a better view." Charlie kneeled down to the other. "You ain't gonna be able to pay attention from all the way down here. What do you say? Don't worry about hurting me. You're so small and skinny, I'd probably be able to sit you on my shoulders, if I wanted to, and you wouldn't even hurt my neck."

Marx was silent, taking that all in. The other's insistence made him feel a little awkward. He didn't want to let him down, so... "Okay." He nodded. He just hoped he wouldn't regret this...

"Alrighty then!" Charlie grinned. "Hop on, then!"

And Marx did as he was told, climbing onto the other's back, holding on tightly as he was lifted up so he could see above the crowd.

"Comfortable?"

Marx nodded again. "Y-yeah..." Well, as comfortable as he could be when he was clinging onto a complete stranger, at least.

Charlie seemed happy at that, but didn't speak. Nobody was speaking now, in fact. Drawcia had walk over to the front of the room.

Marx could see that she had a forlorn look on her face. Her eyes were cold, and her entire being seemed much less colourful that it usually was, as if all her happiness had been sucked out of her. Marx felt horrible. He silently apologised, feeling a heavy feeling in his heart...

"As you all probably have heard," Drawcia began speaking, her voice laced with ice, "There has been an accident here at the Dame Kodomo Orphanage, and a young girl has died."

A small wave of chatter rolled throughout the crowd, until Drawcia raised a hand and silenced them again.

She continued. "The girl, Clarissa, was 6 years old, and was due to be picked up by her new parents tomorrow morning. However, she fell from what appears to be the clock tower, and did not survive."

She had never been this serious before. As she spoke her next words, Marx could've sworn that her eyes locked with his own. He felt like everybody was staring at him, even know he knew full well that that was not the case.

"This is why we ask you not to go near that tower. This is the first death at our orphanage. Hopefully, if you exactly do as we say from now on, it will also be our last. Of course, we shall take extreme care from now on to make sure such accidents will not happen again. Until we find a better alternative, the clock tower will be blocked with wooden crates so that access will become nearly impossible."

Marx bit his lip a bit. Guess his quiet thinking place was off limits, now... Though it wasn't like he _wanted_ to ever go up there again, anyway.

He felt absolutely horrible. Awful. Horrendous. All the other synonyms for horrible that he could think of. If he hadn't gone up there in the first place, none of this would have ever happened...

Drawcia let the crowd talk for another few seconds, before giving her last announcement. "Dinner is in forty-five minutes. You may leave now."

She turned sharply and left, coat almost regally billowing behind her. As the crowd dissipated, Charlie carefully let Marx down off his back.

"Stars above..." The boy muttered. "If I find out who the lad or lady who gave that little girl the idea of going up that clock tower, if there is one... Well, they're going to be in my bad books for the rest of their life."

Marx felt a lump in his throat, but fought the urge to gulp it down. "Y-yeah... They sound like a horrible person, huh...?"

"Well, maybe not horrible, but certainly irresponsible." Charlie nodded, turning around. "Anyway, I'd best be off, now. Stay safe, Marx."

"Uh... y-you too, Charlie." Marx waved to him slightly. "See you..."

As soon as the taller boy left the room, Marx sighed. He was about to make his way back to his room when he felt yet another hand on his back, and a familiar voice in his ear.

"Marx." Drawcia said quietly. "A word, if you will?"


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you to_ _LuminousMoonRay for reviewing! I'm glad that the random story I wrote on a whim after a dream appeals to you. :'3c_

 _Also thank you to guest FUNFAN for reviewing! I'm glad you like this story! Unfortunately, I already have the whole story planned out (because otherwise you might not be having a story at all), and it is definitely heading towards M rating, so it won't be a T rated fic for much longer. So far I haven't changed the rating because the death that occurred was not exactly graphic (you didn't actually get to "see" the dead body and there was no mention of blood; by definition the scene in chapter two where Marx bit his lip and actually made it bleed was more graphic) but by about chapter 14 (if not sooner) the rating will indeed_ have _to change to M. Hope you understand, and will continue reading anyway, though!_

 _Hope you like this chapter, even though it is the shortest yet, and sorry for the delay. I wasn't sure I should post it due to length, but... -shrugs- dunno what happened to that idea. And school. Can't forget school..._

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Marx felt a lump in his throat as he turned to Lady Drawcia, her eyes meeting his and sending a chill down his spine. He couldn't read her expression. Was she angry? Did she know that _he_ had been the one who killed Clarissa? Was she going to tell him off? Give him a punishment? Get him _arrested?_ His mind probably wasn't thinking clearly, if he was honest, but one of those things _had_ to be the truth, it just made sense-

"Are you okay, Marx?"

The boy seized up slightly, unnerved by Drawcia's soft, concerned voice. He wasn't in trouble...?

In the midst of his thoughts, he forgot to answer the adult. So she asked again, her voice a little louder and worried now. "Marx? You okay?"

There was a pause, and then a hurried answer from the one who was staring at the floor. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Another small pause, and then... "You don't look fine, Marx. You look scared."

"Scared? Scared of what; there's... There's nothing to be scared about, is there?" His eyes drifted from the floor to another part of the room, his hands finding their way on top of one another again. "I-I mean... I guess I could be scared of... of _dying_ , but..." That was highly unlikely, in his opinion. But hey; at least he had some excuse for being so jumpy that didn't scream 'hi there, I'm the killer.'

Because he wasn't a killer, was he? He was just a bystander of an unfortunate accident, right? Right. He was. There was no way he could have prevented that death. He tried his best to save her, after all.

But that didn't stop him from feeling incredibly guilty and horrible...

"Oh, Marx..." Drawcia almost whispered, kneeling down so she was lower than the other. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I promise that you're completely safe here."

Marx offered her a sheepish smile. "Well... t-thanks, I guess... But I already knew that. After all; you're here, aren't you? So of course I'm safe."

Drawcia gave a light, warm laugh. "Aww, you're really sweet, dear. Thank you."

There was a beat, and then the adult gently pulled the preteen into her arms. Marx gladly returned the hug, though somehow, he didn't feel like he deserved it.

But it gave him a bit of comfort. Everything was okay; it was behind them. He could let this all go.

"And if you ever need me, you know where to find me." Drawcia reminded him, gently pulling away.

Marx nodded, putting on a smile. With a smile of her own, the adult got up, and left.

As soon as she was gone, Marx's smile slipped. He felt so... drained. He had lied to Drawcia for the second time in a _day_. He had lied to the one person he felt that really cared about him. He felt like a horrible person...

He sighed, turning to leave... Only to find his path blocked by two tall teens.

"How're we feeling, lad?" Bear asked, a grin on his face that was more happy at the concept of tormenting the younger boy than seeing him. "Did you miss me since our last little adventure? Or were you hoping for somebody else to come?"

Marx smiled right back at him. "Actually, you're just the person I wanted to see!"

Bear's smile slipped off in confusion. "Huh? You must be joking, lad. Pulling my leg, are you?"

"Nope." Marx's smile dropped as well, to a neutral expression. "Drawcia has been catching wind of what you've been doing, Bear."

Bear's expression turned sour. He glared at the younger boy, stepping closer. " _What?!_ "

Marx hurried to protect himself. "Now, now, she doesn't know that you've been bullying me; I've told her that all the times I've gotten in trouble were my fault...! But, she forced me to promise it wouldn't happen again. So if you or Jasper do anything drastic, she's going to know that something is up."

Bear glared into Marx's violet eyes with his own emerald ones, face contorted with anger, but Marx just stared straight back at him, showing no signs of fear. He thought it unlikely that Bear would actually listen. After all, the other was rather... stupid, for lack of a better word.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" The teen asked, voice low. "And, you know, not just trying to get me off your back?"

Marx bit his lip. To be honest, it was hard to prove, but... "...Would you prefer to keep doing things to me and find out for yourself? We just need some time for this to pass. And it shouldn't happen again." He doubted Bear would trust him...

But Bear surprised him, and stepped back. "Alright, we have a deal. We have until the next death for this to all blow over. Until then, we'll lay off."

Marx almost felt relieved, but something about that agreement irked him. Something wasn't right about that... And he knew exactly what it was.

"Until the next death?" He stared at Bear as if the teen had grown a second head. There was going to be another death? How on earth did the other know...?!

Slowly, a toothy grin came from the older boy, and he stepped closer to Marx, making the younger boy move back until he was pressed up against a table, and Bear was looming over him. Marx's breathing fell short, and he practically froze up at the next words that came from the older boy's lips.

"Oh Marxy, Marxy..." He clicked his tongue. "I know you killed that girl. And you know what else? I know you're going to kill another person, too."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you, Guestgod, for reviewing! I must say, I was extremely flattered to see your comment w And for you, I tried to write this chapter as quickly as possible!_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Marx was speechless. There was _so_ many things that made no sense. His brain was practically going into overload, but at the same time, he was barely speaking or registering anything at all. He was simply staring at Bear with visible panic in his eyes, gripping onto the table behind him for support.

Bear _knew_ that he had killed Clarissa? But how? Nobody had been around to see!

...Then again, he had thought that nobody was around when he went up into the clock tower, but he was mistaken... Look what happened then...

Bear grinned at his little victory; a cocky grin that, in any other situation, Marx would have frowned at. In this situation, however, Bear had definitely won the right to grin like that.

"Do you want me to explain, perhaps?" Bear asked tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "You look utterly baffled."

Marx slowly nodded at the offer, slowly releasing a breath he hadn't really realised that he was holding.

"Well, lad," Bear stepped back a bit to give the smaller boy some room, "It's really rather simple. The first death in this place in over how many years? Over twenty? Of course you'd be the culprit."

Marx frowned a bit. So... this entire thing was hinging off a hunch with no real evidence?

He was about to rebut, until Bear's next words took all the air out of his argument.

"It was an accident, wasn't it? You didn't _mean_ for her to fall, but there was nothing you could do to stop her, was there?"

The way Bear said that really shook Marx. He wasn't really cocky, as if to mock something Marx might have said, but he wasn't really sincere either. It wasn't as if he felt a bit sorry for the other and was trying to take the weight off his shoulders by shifting the blame. In fact, the way he said it make it seem like he was like he was trying to prove a point.

But what point was there to make?

"You're going to kill the next one in the same way. An accident. Unavoidable. It may not be your fault directly, but _indirectly,_ you will have caused the whole thing."

"...W-why?" Marx finally spoke, voice soft. "How do you know all this?"

Bear shook his head a little. "Marxy, there's one thing you've got to know about this place. _Every_ person here has some kind of magical potential. I should know; Drawcia told me herself, and I'm sure if you asked, she'd tell you too."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Marx frowned, unconsciously tensing a little, baring his fangs slightly.

"It has to do with _everything_." Bear snapped at him, glaring right back. "There are two kinds of magic; dark magic and light magic. You...? You have dark magic. You bring _death_ wherever you go. It was only a matter of time before you killed somebody."

Marx bared his fangs more, growling a bit. "What?! That's stupid! How can you even tell?!" He _had_ to be making this up. He had to be; it just didn't make any sense.

"People with strong magical potential have noticeable differences, lad." Bear gestured vaguely away. "Think of Drawcia. You know she's a witch. She has light blue hair, and golden eyes. Gold eyes are a strong indicator of light magic. People with bright blue, or gold, or sometimes green eyes. They have light magic. Unnatural hair colour, too. Bright or warm colours, like pinks and oranges and reds, bright greens and blues. A sunny disposition, usually. All the signs of a person with light magic.

"People with dark magic, however, are the opposite. With red, dark green, or black eyes... or even purple eyes." He stepped closer to Marx as he said this... Uncomfortable close, in fact. "They have unnatural coloured hair too... Blacks, dark blues, dark greens and reds, purples..."

Bear had trailed off a bit, as if losing focus. Then, without warning, he had his hands up near Marx's face, trying to force the boy to show his teeth. "Sharp fangs, too. Almost all the signs of somebody with dark magic."

When Marx attempted to bite Bear's big hands and pull away, he found that he was too slow, and Bear had already let go, before he got a chance to do anything. Nevertheless, he growled at the other, baring his fangs viciously. He didn't like being touched, _especially_ near his face. Being handled roughly like that was even worse. It made him feel like he was an inanimate object, or something.

"Ooh, touchy, are we, little brat?" Bear asked in a rather mocking tone. "Usually I would give you a good backhand slap for behaviour like that, but this time, I'll let you go. After all, it isn't often you get told the truth, is it?"

 _"Shut up."_

Bear sighed a bit. "Oh, Marx, I know you don't really believe you have magic, but that's why I'm trying to help you! You see, light magic is brought out by good feelings, like happiness and love, until it can be controlled. Dark magic is brought out by bad feelings, like fear and anger and sadness. The sooner you get that magic brought out and the sooner you learn to control it, the better. Otherwise, you'll just keep accidentally causing people's deaths."

"That's a lie!" Marx snapped. "You're lying!"

"Oh, am I?" Bear started chuckling slightly. "Oh, we'll see about that."

He started walking away from make, smiling smugly. "I'm smarter than I look, Marx. It'd be unwise to underestimate me. After all, not only can I seriously hurt you, but I can make it look like an accident. But of course, you already know that, don't you?"

With that, he and Jasper left, leaving Marx all alone in the dining hall, with nothing to distract him from his own thoughts.

"...He's lying." He mumbled to himself, eyes drifting to look at the floor. "He has to be."

He had to prove Bear wrong. He couldn't let him win. But how could he do so...?

"...Otherwise I'll keep accidentally causing deaths." He repeated out loud, looking back up. "Oh, we'll see about that. I'm not going to kill a single other person. I'll make sure of that."

It would be easy not to cause another accidental death. He just needed to avoid any dangerous situations. He already did a rather good job at avoiding people. All he needed to do now was stay away from anywhere in which he could observe an accidental death, like anywhere up high, or with potential dangers hanging above. He just had to be slow and careful and quiet, which he already was. Only now he'd be even more so.

...Yeah. He didn't have any of this silly _dark magic_. He was rather well read, and if it existed, he would have probably read about it before. Obviously, it didn't exist, and Bear was just making the entire thing up.

Though, of course, it wouldn't hurt to have a second opinion... And as much as the thought annoyed him, he knew exactly who he could ask about the topic at hand.


	9. Chapter 9

_My apologies for taking so long; I had a bad case of writer's block. I hope you haven't lost interest yet, though! I'm still keen to write this story!_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Dinnertime was very surprising for Grill. Firstly, Marx- who she had thought _maybe_ didn't really like her, based on the way he snapped at her earlier- had sat down next to her. And then he spoke.

"Grill, I need your help."

That had taken her aback a bit. She didn't think that Marx was the type to ask _anybody_ for help. But here he was, asking her for exactly that.

"Really?" She asked, leaning towards the other a little. She appeared to be grateful that the other had said this to her. "Well, that do you need help with?"

Marx paused, thinking of the right words to say. He had a book of some sort on the table in front of him, and though Grill couldn't see the title when the other's arms were covering it, she could have sworn she saw the word "dictionary" on the spine.

But that couldn't be right. After all, what kind of twelve year old would be reading a dictionary...?

"I need your opinion." Marx eventually said. "Is it true that there's such a thing as dark magic...?"

Grill nodded, almost instantaneously. "Yeah, of course! Well, it's sort of an umbrella term for a couple of different subclasses of magic, but it's real, and quite a lot of people have a magical potential relating to it! I mean, I myself don't have it; I have light magic, but either way..."

Marx grimaced slightly. At the very least, this proved that Bear had some knowledge of what he was talking about... And that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"...Is there any particular difference between those who have dark magic, and those who have light magic...?" He asked, a hand gliding nervously over the spine of his book.

"Um... Not that I know of." Grill shook her head. "At least, I haven't been told anything about that."

That made sense, Marx reasoned with himself. Why would a student of magic be told these kind of things? Their teachers wouldn't want them to be discriminative towards their peers due to what kind of magic they had, right?

Either that, or Bear was spreading lies. But, he preferred to err on the side of caution.

"You shouldn't have to worry about any of this, though." Grill continued on through Marx's silence. "Magic auras don't usually show themselves until the person is thirteen, unless they've had prior training. So, since you're twelve, you shouldn't have any magical things happening to you! Well, unless they're caused by somebody else."

Marx couldn't help but give a small sigh of relief at that. If Grill was to the trusted, then he had nothing to worry about, just like she said.

Well, almost nothing to worry about.

"Thank you, Grill." He nodded slightly, returning his gaze to his book.

"You're welcome!" The girl chirped. How somebody could be so cheerful, Marx would never understand.

While this _was_ somewhat of a revelation, and a relief, Marx knew he still couldn't let his guard down. He most definitely didn't want to cause any more deaths, and he didn't want Bear and Jasper to be right. He figured that the best way to do this would be to take some extra precautions; avoiding people and dangerous areas, stuff like that. It wasn't like he interacted much with anybody anyway. They wouldn't even notice.

...It made him kind of sad, in a way. The fact that nobody would notice. It meant he could get away with things, but at the same time, it meant that there was nobody to care when he got hurt.

Mentally shaking away those thoughts, however, he opened his book and started flicking through it. Reading always helped him calm down. It was a good therapy. Even if he was just reading the definitions of words and how to say them in German. He was a very weird kid, yes, but you couldn't deny that he was smart.

It soon became time to collect their food. It was a simple meal, nothing special or noticeable about it. It did, however, give Marx a bit of a problem.

The meals came with the appropriate cutlery. And in this case, that included a fork and a knife.

Marx wasn't very comfortable about being around knives. Not after what had happened. So many things could happen with a knife. There were so many ways he could accidentally hurt somebody.

In the end, he decided to leave the knife alone, even though he was questioned about it by the cook who was serving the food. It was better to be safe than sorry, right?

Even if he did have to cut the food with his fork.

oOoOoOo

After finishing his food quite a bit later than everybody else, (making certain that there was as few people as possible for him to interact with when he left,) Marx left for his room, taking a small detour to avoid any potential people.

He considered that he was being overly paranoid, but then reasoned with himself, telling himself that everything would pass soon enough, and before he knew it, he'd be back to his normal self.

He managed to make it all the way to his room without bumping into a single soul... Until he actually reached his room, that is. Grill was waiting in front of it, holding a book under her arm.

Marx's mind was racing. Had Grill gone into his room and taken the book from his shelf? Or was it her own book? Why was she in front of his room?

As soon as Grill caught sight of Marx, she smiled brightly, waving to him. "Yo, Marx!"

"'Yo'...?" Marx frowned, watching the girl walk over to him.

"I have something for you!" She held out the book with both hands. "It's a book on magic!"

"Grill, I don't want to learn magic." Marx gave her an annoyed look, accompanied by a small huff. She didn't seem to catch it, however.

"No, no, silly. It's not a spell book; it's a history book!"

"...A history book?" Marx finally looked down at the cover that had been presented to him.

"The Book of Magic," it read, with a subtitle that declared, "A book for all ages containing many magical facts such as the different types of magic, the history of magic, and the way magic has impacted today's society!"

...Marx couldn't help but let a faint smile grow on his face. Despite her... Naïve façade, Grill did seem to be at least somewhat mindful of other people. Marx had to give her at least some credit.

"Drawcia gave this to me earlier today, buuuut... I'm not really interested in that kind of stuff." Grill explained with a shrug of her shoulders. "So you can have it!"

"You really didn't have to." Marx said quietly, tucking his own book under his arm and taking the book in his hands. However, on the inside, he was very pleased. Having a book like this could confirm or deny any and all theories he had about magic!

"Well, I wanted to." Grill shrugged. "Anyway, I've gotta go. Salt, Sugar and Pepper will be waiting for me."

"-Who?" Marx looked up from the book... Only to find that Grill had already ran off.

"... _Wer namen ihrer kinder nach gewürze?_ " Marx muttered to himself, frowning. That roughly translates to " _Who names their children after condiments?"_ That would be a question to be answered another time, however. Hopefully in English.

Nevertheless, Marx entered his room, putting both the new book and his dictionary on his bedside table. He could read them tomorrow. Now, it was time to get ready to sleep. Little did he know, he had a few big days ahead of him...


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

 ****To say Marx woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed would be a lie. Not only does he not have a tail, but he was exhausted and moody when he finally woke up. He hadn't been able to sleep all night, due to visions haunting him. Memories of the clock tower incident.

But, nevertheless, he forced himself out of bed. He had some reading to do.

So, after getting dressed, he dragged himself to breakfast, where he once again forced himself to only eat food which didn't require cutlery in order to prevent any accidents. After that, he headed over to the library.

You see, it was a Monday morning. On all the weekdays, the orphans were given an opportunity to do many things. They could sit in the library and read books that interested them, supervised by Lady Drawcia. They were encouraged to read non-fiction books, or substantially sized novels. Marx greatly enjoyed doing this. Then again, he was also the only one do it during break times and on the weekend as well.

The orphans could also help the chef in the kitchen, and assist in cooking lunch or dinner for everybody, or they could help Drawcia's sisters in doing work around the place.

I never mentioned that, did I? The fact that Drawcia has two sisters who helped her run the orphanage. Well, you didn't think that Drawcia ran it by herself, did you? Of course not. She had many people that she had hired as staff members, and her two younger sisters -Claycia and Paintcia- worked as the maid and nurse respectively.

Marx never really talked to Paintcia or Claycia. Whenever he was hurt, Drawcia would look after him, so he never went to the infirmary, and he never bumped into Claycia on her rounds. As far as he was concerned, Drawcia was the only important staff member. He didn't even know anybody else's name.

Marx sat himself down in a beanbag chair, making himself comfortable. It was a bright yellow one, and sat in the very corner of the room, away from the window. He had a certain soft spot for that particular chair. So much so, that all the other kids who usually stayed at the library knew it was _his_ chair, and usually made sure that any newcomers didn't sit in it. Of course, this usually involved scaring them away with rumours, but... Marx didn't know that.

He opened up his newfound copy of _The Book of Magic_ to its first page, going straight to reading it. He planned to read the whole thing from cover to cover, marking pages of interest by folding the corners. He could go back to them later.

It would take a while to read it, he knew, but that was probably a good thing. After all, he couldn't exactly kill anybody when he was reading a book, could he? No. That was ridiculous.

...It _was_ ridiculous, right?

He looked up from his book, looking around. Nobody was nearby. He sighed. It was okay. Nobody was nearby. He couldn't hurt anybody if nobody was nearby.

He had to stop being so paranoid, he thought to himself. It was exactly what Bear wanted. Marx had read multiple books about the power of the mind, and had learnt that many psychologists thought that if you thought about something enough, it would eventually become true. Bear _wanted_ him to think that he was cursed; that he was a killer. So, he had to think the opposite. And he knew that this book in his hands would likely give him the answers, and help him do just that.

And so, he returned to his reading.

 _Chapter One; an introduction to the History of Magic..._

Time passed very quickly. Before he knew it, an hour had passed, and the other kids began walking out of the library, to go outside and play before lunch was ready. Marx, however, stayed in that room, engrossed in his book.

The book was proving to be very informative. He learnt that the things Bear had said were true. People with certain coloured hair, certain coloured eyes, people with sharp fangs or other animal features, and especially left-handed people were prone to having the potential for dark magic, but it was not always the case. Though he did have all the right criteria, there was a small possibility he didn't have that magic in him.

He also learnt some valuable information; although it was true that people with light magic brought good luck and those with dark magic brought bad luck, magic potential didn't show itself on its own until a certain age. Unless he had training, like Grill did, his magic wouldn't start having effect on its own until he was about fifteen. He still had three years until that happened.

...Of course, there was that small passage about the possibility of the powers emerging early, but the chance of that happening was so rare, Marx decided to ignore that. It wasn't a credible source. It was only a theory.

"...Marx?"

At hearing his name, he snapped out of his thoughts, jumping slightly. He looked up from his book, his gaze locking with the person's golden eyes immediately.

Drawcia had kneeled down in front of him, her eyes holding a small giggle. She gently tapped the book with a finger. "You find this interesting?"

Marx nodded, the edges of his mouth twitching a bit. "Mhm. Well, at least, most of it."

"Ah..." Drawcia shifted so she was sitting, cross-legged. "Would you like to learn how to use magic, dear?"

"No," Marx said, perhaps a little too fast. He took a moment to regain himself, and then replied again, "N-no, thank you."

"Fair enough." Drawcia nodded. "Perhaps you are not ready just yet. I won't rush you."

Marx couldn't help but frown a bit. The way Drawcia had said that made it seem like she _expected_ him to learn magic. He could credit Bear for doing his homework on the topic of magic just to terrorise him, but the fact that what he said about Lady Drawcia appeared to be true too... It made him have a bad feeling about the entire thing.

Drawcia couldn't be purposely collecting people with magic, right? It must just be a coincidence. Only, everything was beginning to be a coincidence, and it was beginning to worry him.

He heard Drawcia sighing slightly. His gaze drifted back to her.

"Marx," She breathed, "Look outside."

Marx did as he was told, glancing towards the window.

"It's a beautiful day outside," Drawcia mumbled, her voice quiet and thoughtful, "The birds are singing, and all the flowers are in bloom... Kids like you should be out there playing, Marx. Not locked up inside. When was the last time you went out...?"

Marx stared out the window at the blue sky, deep in thought. When _was_ the last time he had been outside...?

"...Aside from when I fell into the bramble bush yesterday?"

Drawcia snorted in laughter, making Marx look back at her with a slightly sheepish grin, fangs showing. His eyes were all squinty; happy. It was always nice to be with Drawcia. She always made him laugh when nobody else could.

"Darling," She put a hand on his shoulder, her voice still giggly with laughter. "Go out there. Take your book. Find a tree to read under while you breathe in the fresh air. I promise, you won't regret it. Things haven't been the best this week, but they say sunshine helps people be happy, you know? And I want to see you being happy."

Marx hesitated a bit, though his smile still tugged at his cheeks. "...I'll do it for you, Lady Drawcia."

"Thank you." She got up, gently pulling him close and planting a kiss on his forehead. "And have fun, alright?"

Marx nodded, and when Drawcia extended a hand to him, he took it, standing. No other word needed to be said, and she departed with a smile on her lips and a laugh in the air.

Marx exhaled, glancing back towards the window. Everything would be fine. He had disproved Bear's words, and he had nothing to be worried about. He would take Drawcia's advice, go outside. Clarissa's death was far behind him now.

Today was going to be a good day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven  
**  
Feet tapped through the empty halls of the orphanage, as Marx exited the library, his book tucked under his arm. Almost everybody was outside, or in their rooms. There was barely anybody in the halls.

Marx paused in front of the door that led outside. He could hear other children laughing and shouting... It seemed like they were having fun.

How they could find fun in running around aimlessly, he couldn't understand. Then again, he couldn't really criticize them, having never actually tried. However, even just the thought of running made him feel tired.

He opened the door, peering out into the sunlit field. There was a group of kids at the bottom of the hill. It appeared that they were playing some sort of ball game. Baseball? Cricket? Marx couldn't really tell the difference.

There was a tree towards the bottom of the hill, somewhat near where the others were playing. It was big, and shady, and had lots of green grass near it's trunk. That would be the perfect place to sit, Marx thought to himself. Soft and comfortable.

And so, he walked down the hill, (fully aware of and dreading the fact that he was going to have to climb back up it afterwards,) and made his way to the tree, sitting down between two roots that were sticking out of the grass.

However, something compelled him to keep his book shut. He had been inside for so long that he had never really gotten to appreciate just how beautiful the outside world really was. The grass was _incredibly_ green and soft, the sun was bright and warm, the birds were chirping, the children were all laughing and having fun, and a light wind was dancing through the air. The atmosphere concreted Marx's idea that it was going to be a good day today.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a ball being smacked against the wood of a bat, and the sound of somebody calling out.

"Heads up!"

Marx glanced over at the source of the sound, feeling his heart leap out of his chest as he saw the baseball soaring straight towards him. In a panic, he closed his eyes tightly, and instinctively _smacked_ it away with his book, sending it flying away from him.

...He slowly opened his eyes, looking over at the ball, and then at the person who had called out to him, who was running over to pick up his ball.

"Hey!" Charlie had a grin on his face as he picked up the ball from the ground. "Marx, that was an _amazing_ hit!"

"-oh, uh... you know how life or death situations are..." Marx rubbed the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly.

To his surprise, Charlie chuckled back, but it wasn't one of those mean chuckles Bear always did towards him... it was a chuckle of amusement, this time.

"Y'know, Marx, we could use a batter like you on the team!" He kneeled down so he was a bit closer to Marx, smiling encouragingly.

"Uh, w-what...?" Had Charlie just asked him to join in their game...? That was... new. Nobody had ever asked for him to play with them before...

...He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it. "I-I don't even know how to play...!"

"Oh, come on." Charlie insisted. "I'll teach ya! It's easy. After all, you did an excellent hit there, and if you can do it again, that would be brilliant! And even if it was just a fluke, it'll be fun! You look like you could do with a little meat on your bones, y'know~" He teased.

Marx felt a blush make its way onto his cheeks, and he looked down in embarrassment. Truth be told, he wasn't very proud of his thin, lanky figure...

He thought a bit about the game. It was just a game, right? Nobody ever died of a baseball game. And as Charlie said, it would be fun. Maybe it'd take his mind of things completely.

"...I guess I could try." He nodded. "B-but only until I'm out." He wanted to have fun, but... Even just the thought of exerting himself like that made him feel tired.

Charlie grinned. "Great! Maybe if you get out without getting a hit, you'll be able to field for us. Now, just one question... Do you have lice?"

"...lice?" Marx looked up at the other. "N-no? What kind of question is-"

He suddenly _squeaked_ as his hat was taken off of him, soon replaced by Charlie's red and white cap.

"There we go!" Charlie gave Marx a cheeky wink. "Now you look the part!"

"W-what about my hat, though?" Marx asked, somewhat nervously adjusting the cap. He wasn't used to not wearing his hat, let alone other people touching it...

"It can stay here, with your book." Charlie assured. "Now, are you coming, or what...?

Marx paused for a second, wondering if he'd be okay with his hat being off. Deciding that the answer was yes, he stood.

"Great!" Charlie started running back to the game. Marx, although not running, followed him.

He could hear the other kids calling out to them. Calling things like, "What took you so long, Charlie?"

"Who's this person?"

"Are they okay? Didn't they almost get hit by that last ball...?"

For some reason, Marx couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious, knowing they were talking about him. It wasn't like they were saying bad things about him, but the fact that they were even talking about him at all was... new to him.

"Everybody, this is Marx!" Charlie announced, placing a hand on Marx's shoulder. "He's going to be batting for a round, alright~? Don't go too hard on him; he's never played before."

Much to Marx's surprise, everybody seemed rather happy to have him join. They all encouraged him to do his best, and seemed generally happy to have him there with them.

...Nobody had ever really acted like that towards him before.

Before he realised what was going on, Charlie handed him the bat. Within seconds of him taking it, he was directed to the first base, and taught how to swing it so it would hit the ball far away.

"You can do this, little buddy~" Charlie encouraged, making his way to the middle of the field. "I'll throw the ball at you, and you try your best to hit it. Ready?"

Marx paused, holding his bat in the right position. _Little buddy...?_ Did Charlie see him as a friend...?

...He smiled at the thought, looking over at the older boy. For the first time, he actually had a friend. He wasn't alone anymore. It was an entirely new thought, but...

"I'm ready." He said. And it was true.

Too bad this newfound friendship probably wouldn't last long.

* * *

 _Aaand too bad this story won't stay T rated for long. Next chapter, I think it'd be best if I changed the rating to M. After that chapter in the clocktower, however, you probably already expected this.  
Sorry for the filler-ish chapter! This was only because the next chapter is going to be full of action, and I needed to have the proper set up. (I try to keep to 1000 words a chapter, you see) either way, I hope you've been enjoying this so far because I promise; this is just the beginning of what I have in store for you._


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Marx stood at first base, gripping the bat tightly. He was going to participate in his first ever baseball game. Something felt wrong about this, however. He couldn't figure it out.

Charlie got himself into position, and then threw the ball. Marx swung the bat, perhaps a little too early. The ball went right past him.

"Strike one!" The kid behind him called out, tossing the ball back to Charlie.

Marx frowned, getting back into position. How was anybody meant to hit a ball like this? It felt so clumsy to him...

After a few more moments, once he was sure everybody was ready, Charlie threw the ball again. Marx missed once again.

"Strike two!"

This time, Charlie frowned slightly too. "Hold on; time out."

Marx became a bit worried as he watched Charlie walk towards him. Why did he keep missing? Was he doing it wrong...? Or was he just plain unlucky or unskilled...?

"...What hand are you?" Charlie asked.

Marx paused a bit, confused. "...Left?"

"Ah." Charlie nodded. "There's our problem. I got you to hold the bat wrong."

The taller boy proceeded to help Marx get into the right position, and taught him how to swing the bat correctly. Once he was ready, Charlie gave him a light pat on the back.

"I believe in you, Marx. You can do this."

Marx felt something weird inside his chest. Like an excited glow. Something he had never felt before. "Thank you."

Charlie went back to his place. Marx held the bat tightly in his hands, focusing on him.

Charlie reared back and threw the ball. Marx closed his eyes and swung the bat, hard.

The ball and the bat finally connected.

Marx felt a rush of excitement go through him. He felt so happy, so proud of himself. Time seemed to slow down for a few seconds. He was finally like all the other kids; playing sports, having fun. He was finally fitting in.

Maybe this whole ordeal with Clarissa was good for him. If that had never happened, he would have never gotten his hands on that book and, in turn, would have never gone outside and hit that ball like he did. But now, everything was better. He wasn't going to kill any more people. He was going to be a normal kid. He was going to have fun.

...Oh, how cruel fate can be. Just as he thought things were going his way, everything came crumbling down around him.

You see, after the initial thwack of the bat and ball connecting, there was another sound. A loud crack, followed by the thud of something heavy yet soft hitting the ground. After that, the air was filled with panicked screams.

The feeling of excitement in Marx's chest quickly turned to dread. He opened his eyes, breath catching as he saw Charlie, laying sprawled on the ground, seemingly unconscious.

He had a horrible feeling about this.

Everybody around him was frozen in fear. They were all staring at the same thing.

In the corner of his eye, Marx may have seen somebody flee towards the castle, but he couldn't tell. He was stuck, staring at the older body's unmoving body, the world slowly going numb around him. People were talking around him, but he couldn't hear a word. His bat slowly slipped from his hands.

He had killed another person.

No, no, he couldn't have. It was just a game, how could somebody die from a game of baseball?! Unless the ball had hit him right in the- Ooooh, dear...

If he had instinctively turned his head to shield himself from the hit, and then the ball would have hit his temple... And with such a small object going at such a high speed, it would have killed him instantly.

He had killed another person.

He could hear the speaking now, but the meaning of the words were lost on him. It was like he was in another world, listening to an alien language.

"Oh my god, I can't feel a pulse...! I-I think he's dead!"

"-D-don't say that yet! Somebody went to get Drawcia; she can help us!"

"Calm down, everybody! I promise, everything will be okay...! Just calm down..."

"Hey, kid! What's your name...? Max? Are you okay there...?"

"Why is he just staring like that...?!"

"He's in shock, you idiot!"

Suddenly, it felt like all eyes were on him. They were all looking in his direction. Their eyes were staring him down, judging him. He felt the air become cold.

The next thing he knew, there was a hand on his shoulder.

He heard a familiar voice drift through the air. "Oh my god..."

If it weren't for the overhanging feeling of dread, Marx would've felt a little calmer. They weren't looking at him. They were looking at Drawcia, standing behind him.

...Drawcia was going to be so heartbroken, wasn't she? Another one of her children, dead. Within less than a week. Marx felt like throwing up. This was all his fault.

Drawcia made her way over to Charlie, checking him over. It took only a few seconds to determine the truth, yet she didn't want to believe it.

"...How did this happen...?" She asked quietly, looking around desperately for an answer that wasn't the one lying in front of her.

...And now, all eyes were most definitely on Marx.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Not that he had any words to say. How was he meant to explain this?

Charlie was dead. His first friend was dead, and it was his fault. He just couldn't do anything right, could he...?!

His vision started blurring. His breath hitched, and his chest tightened. His shoulders shook, and he wrapped his arms around himself, digging the nails of his hands into the side of his stomach.

Eventually, he broke into a sob, finally finding his voice. "I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!" He closed his eyes tightly, tears falling down his cheeks.

He just wanted this to end. He wanted it to all be over. He didn't want to kill anybody. He just wanted to be normal. But he was beginning to think that he might never be normal. That nobody wanted anything to do with him. He definitely didn't want anything to do with himself.

He felt something warm and soft wrap around him. Drawcia had hugged him. He leaned into her, burying his face into her clothes. His tears were making the fabric damp.

"I'm so sorry...!" He repeated. He could feel her hand rubbing his back. He didn't feel like he deserved the comfort, even if he was sorry...

"Marx..." Drawcia's voice was soft and gentle. "Go to my office, please. I'll meet you there."

Despite not wanting to, Marx let go of her, stepping back. He wiped his tears away with the back of his glove, giving a small nod in response.

Drawcia turned back to the dead body, but what she did next, Marx didn't see. He didn't care. He just made his way towards her office, fighting back tears.

The worst part about this wasn't that Charlie was dead. It wasn't that Drawcia was upset. No, the worst part was that Bear was right. And if Bear was right, then that could only mean one thing.

This wasn't the last death he was going to cause.


End file.
